


Why Does He Run

by DollopheadedMerlin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur Pendragon Returns, Gen, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2015-11-28
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:25:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5305652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollopheadedMerlin/pseuds/DollopheadedMerlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur returns and makes it his mission to find Merlin. He does so, but there is something wrong about him, something changed, something foreign.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Does He Run

He must have looked strange. To every passerby, he must have looked strange. However, to him, every passerby looked strange. It was not he who was out of place, but the whole world. He stepped out into it, looking for the one person he knew would be waiting, he knew would be the same.

Eyes followed him as he wondered, every man, woman, and child had eyes for the odd attire he wore and the stance he held. He in turn had eyes for their strange glances and otherworldly devices. He took a deep breath, let out a stout sigh, and pushed on.

Finally he spotted him. He was standing, shoulders hunched and knees bent at odd angles, feet facing inward. His neck was stuck out, prompting wide, blue eyes to jut about at the world, seemingly finding it as odd as his seeker did. He stood amongst a small crowd, sometimes glancing at those beside him, all waiting at the end of what seemed to be a walkway, looking out at a far off sign beyond a rush of foreign contraptions. Though his clothes were different; strangely knitted and some bits shining in the sun light like they oughtn’t to, he was the same man with the same taste and the same oddness about him. Only, he was slightly off, like he was missing something.

“Merlin!” Arthur called out in relief, sauntering over.

The man’s eyes flickered his way briefly and he drew into himself more before looking away again, eyebrows drawn up into an unusual expression. Arthur stared out at him from the edge of the cluster, wondering why he was so indifferent to his presence. He called out again but Merlin moved away, the crowd sweeping him up and across the flat, black earth towards the sign that had somehow changed in meaning.

Arthur rushed after him, trailing behind the crowd, afraid to lose the man he’d finally found. When the crowd finally dispersed, however, Merlin was absent from it. He spun and searched, the already disorienting world becoming a blur around him. Finally, he steadied himself, having spotted him . . . running.

The resurrected took off after him, calling his name and pleading for closure. Rounding corners and pushing through crowds, he gained even more ogles and stares but he didn’t care. At long last, Merlin was trapped, cornered by the scummy walls of an alley’s end. Arthur approached him, relieved and excited and ready to finally be returned to some sort of familiarity. But nothing was familiar and Merlin looked scared.

“Merlin?” Arthur asked carefully, taking small steps closer.

“Stop,” Merlin murmured. “Stop—stop it.” His eyes began to flicker around again, like he was watching out for something.

“Merlin, it’s me,” Arthur assured in a breaking voice, getting closer still.

“You—you—I don’t know you—you’re not—I don’t know you,” Merlin rasped in a shaking voice, drawing himself further into the corner.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, only steps away now, “look at me.”

“No,” Merlin refused, jerking his head to the side and looking towards the ground. “No, no. I can’t—no—I’ve never met you before.”

“Please,” Arthur pled, “Look at me, Merlin. You know me.”

“I—I don’t know—we’ve never met before! I don’t know you, please I don’t—“

“It’s me, it’s Arthur!” he cried, grasping onto the boy’s shuddering shoulders.

“I don’t—you can’t! You’re dead!” Merlin sobbed, trying to look anywhere but at the dead man’s face. “No, no—you’re not real—you were never real—they said—you were meant to stop—you were meant to—I’m not meant to see you anymore—you’re dead—please—I don’t know you—I—“

Arthur shook him once as tears poured from the boy’s eyes, both frightened and mournful. “Look at me—look at me! Merlin! I’m real! I’m here! I’m back! It’s alright! It’s—“

Blinded by gold and terrified eyes, Arthur’s world went white and his mind went blank. His head struck hard against the far wall and, as the blur left his vision, he saw Merlin scramble onto knobby knees and shaking legs. He heard him mumble to him and to himself, small apologies and worries and insane incoherence. Just as he was able to make out Merlin’s expression, the boy froze. His eyes stared back at Arthur, wide and scared and confused. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes and fingers twitching with a madness resurfaced. His breath hitched again and he remained, standing over his king with breathy sobs and groans and moans. Then, when it seemed he could take the sight of the phantom no longer he turned and Arthur watched as he saw the thin figure of his friend flee, run away, until he was just a blur in the distance.


End file.
